Impressions
by Erjika Tevkana
Summary: Snapshots of moments during my years of marching band. Once again, since I'm in pit, my impressions may be a bit different from yours. ^_^ **NOTE** Series is drawing to a close, finally! I don't know how many more there will be, but it will end soon!
1. Glorious Solos

Impressions: Glorious Solos 

Erjika Tevkana 

* * *

A hush comes over the parking lot. The members stand at attention, holding a single note that hangs sibilantly in the air. A quiet harmony from the baritone horn lifts over the hum from the rest of the band. Jason raises his trumpet high, the heralder of the next movement. The first note rings clear, adding to the rich harmony. The second note-- 

*sputter* 

"What the heck???" 


	2. Rain

Impressions: Rain 

Erjika Tevkana 

a little 2nd POV for all you marchers who think pit has it easy! 

* * *

It's cold, wet, and unbelievably miserable. It really sucks to be section leader, because you're the one chosen to run back and forth over a soggy baseball field six times just to see when the rest of the band is coming. Already you've scraped your hand on hook to the bass drum, and you've smashed your shin on the gong. You know you'll be laughing about this once you're warm and cozy, but all you can do right now is stare in horror at the torn flesh on your hand-- and worry because you can't feel it. 

Showtime. Grimly pushing the vibraphones ahead of you, you watch out of the corner of your eye as the band marches in a somewhat straight line across the field. You can only hope that no one will slip. Last year, a guy in another band had slipped in mud and nearly broke his ankle. All credits to him, he was able to march off the field with his bandmates before collapsing. With luck (and a bit of astroturf), this won't happen again. 

Setting up the equipment, your mind goes numb as you try to focus on not letting the wet metal slip out of your hands. You're not nervous of the crowds anymore, but being under those bright strobe lights only a few feet away from the bleachers does make you self-conscious. You try not to curse openly. 

At last, everything is set up. The drum major turns and salutes. You wrap your hands tightly around the mallets. You can't even feel your fingers, and you can barely see with all the rain coming down. Thanks to all the water, your fingers slip and you screw up the first note. 

You sigh. It's going to be a long night. 


	3. Rain II

Impressions: Rain II 

Erjika Tevkana 

the first "Rain" was kinda dark. It needed cheering up! 

* * *

It's cold, wet, and unbelievably beautiful. There's something to be said in playing in the rain. At least during practice. 

You and the rest of the band have been outside for an hour already, and you're doing one more run-through to make sure you've got it down. Everyone is soaked to the skin, and it's so cold you're actually starting to feel warm. 

You stand at attention, and try not to smile as the drum major slips a little on the podium. At his downbeat, you start playing. The dark, schizophrenic music captures the mood perfectly. As if on signal, the rain picks up again, matching the music's crescendos. 

Every time you hit the bells, water goes plinking away. You can't help bit grin. What would it look like if you sprinkled some glitter on there? 

As the music swells, the rain pours down in sheets. Fat raindrops splatter on the ground, adding to the sound of the cymbals. The movement ends, and everything is silent, save for the ever-present rain. 

As soon as the drum major says to relax, everyone starts laughing. The snare drummer is in hysterics because every time he hit his drum, all the water would splash into his face. Your friend is making a face because she had to stand at attention in an ankle-deep pool. 

It's still freezing cold, but you smile. It was worth it. 


	4. Silhouettes

Impressions: Silhouettes 

Erjika Tevkana 

* * *

Wisps of the mellophone solo drift mournfully over the field. The power has gone out, but we are still outside in the bitter cold. The glaring headlights from two cars at the opposite side of the field cast sharp reliefs as the marchers move softly, silently across the grass. The long shadows thrown over the field coalesce into evenly spaced lines, melding into a company front. As one, the band marches forward, the brilliant back-lighting throwing their features into obscurity, like vengeful angels in deliverance. The sparkle of glinting instruments, silhouettes sliding in pattern, with mist gathering at their feet in the frozen air. The dark harmony rises up with their life's breath, ending sharply in a silent wail, the sound echoing through the night. As one, they stand at attention, their shadows like bars against the frosted grass. 


	5. Little People

Impressions: Little People 

Erjika Tevkana 

* * *

The bus driver finally kicked us off the bus, and we left to join everyone else at the stadium. Approaching the stands, I smile as I look at my band, a tiny cluster of brightly colored jackets in a sea of humanity. Only 27 of us this year, less than a third of what we had two years ago, but the ones that are here are hardcore. The small, but the mighty! 


	6. The Advice Not Taken

Impressions: The Advice Not Taken 

Erjika Tevkana 

As soon as we return to the bus from our first competition of the year, he turns me around and glares at me. His breathing is ragged, and sweat is pouring off of his face. He grabs the back of a chair for support. Tugging at the collar of his uniform, he tries desperately to let in more air. He keeps attempting to say something, but his much-abused lungs won't let him. After a few more tortured breaths, he glares at me again and rasps, "I hate you." 

I shrug. "It's your own darn fault. I told you not to wear long sleeves underneath your uniform." 


	7. Recreation

Impressions: Recreation 

Erjika Tevkana 

"You are going DOWN!" he cries as he tackles me. I manage to break his hold and run off in the direction of the end zone, the cheers of my teammates driving me along. 

Practice had ended two hours early, but several of us stayed behind, waiting for rides. In the meantime, we were making good use of the football field. We quickly found out that boredom is a great source of creativity. 

Playing rugby with a soccer ball. Who'd have thought? 


	8. Glorious Solos II

Impressions: Glorious Solos II 

Erjika Tevkana 

She played her solo with all her heart. She could feel the music flowing through her, liquid and alive, her saxophone glowing in the sunlight. She hit the top note perfectly, a beautiful clear tone and-- 

*chugchugchug* 

The sprinklers turned on. 


	9. The Dark Side

Impressions: The Dark Side 

Erjika Tevkana 

Not marching band, but it fit in anyway! 

"Yes! New music!" 

"I'm so sick of playing those other songs..." 

"Yeah, I know!" 

*rummages through folder* 

"Wait a sec..." 

"What?" 

"...ARGH! Dammit!" 

"What??" 

"We're playing Gershwin and Sousa!!!" 

"What's wrong with that?" 

"They're too happy!!" 

"...eh?" 

"I hate happy music!" 

"er..." 

"No, seriously! I like really dark music, not this happy-joy crap." 

"Um, are you doing ok?" 

"Wha?? Oh... No, there's nothing wrong with me!!" 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes! Just 'cos I like dark music doesn't mean I'm screwed up..." 

"riiiight..." 

"Stop looking at me like that!" 

"..." 


	10. Sun

Impressions: Sun 

Erjika Tevkana 

Lying here in the sun, I can't remember any other time when I felt so alive. No thrills, no excitement, just an overwhelming peace, burning radiantly through my eyelids. The other marchers have long since gone off for lunch, but I remain on the field for a little touch of serenity. The breeze is a chill fron the shadows, sharp contrast to the sunlight in the wet grass-scented heat. No worries, no tired hands, no stress, not right now. I know it will return the moment I open my eyes, but for now I lie in the melting sun, the sounds of traffic and conversation a silent roar in the distance. 


	11. The Joys of Being a Section Leader

Impressions: The Joys of Being a Section Leader 

Erjika Tevkana 

Sorry, this is kind of a rant... 

"But my teacher came in and said I had to stay after and then I had to get something to eat cuz I'm a growing boy and all and vwbujovwastihshyknvsmdmm...." 

His chattering voice finally mumbles blissfully off in the distance. I groan and rub my temples, as little marching band demons run around my head, shrieking "this is what you get for being section leader! Payback's a b**** (Hey! No swearing on the field!)" 

/Oh, the ironies,/ my sarcastic inner self mutters. /Your opening song is Dante's Inferno, and as you play the haunting strains of Dante's trip to the Underworld, you are descending into your own little Hell./ 

Yeah, thanks for telling me. 

/Section leader: it's a beautiful thing, really./ 

Wow, you know how much I love your support. 

"...rnvnwejwkrgjvshsxmv and then we had to go here and hey are you listening to me oh well and anyway we gnwjrethnkeopsdvnkh...." 

Talking to oneself couldn't possibly be healthy. 


	12. Storm

Impressions: Storm 

Erjika Tevkana 

The lonely sound of the saxophone drifts along the open field. The wind picks up, adding to the quiet sound of people moving into position. The sky is an unnatural shade of crimson, the last cry of the sun before disappearing behind ominous clouds. It's oddly still, as if the world is holding its breath. A company front, a gust of wind, and the lightning strikes, illuminating the no longer silent band in a brief gasp of electricity, instruments glinting in defiance. The roar of the thunder answers the fierce call of the music. 


	13. Rain III

Impressions: Rain III 

Erjika Tevkana 

* * *

Rain melting down the window, the liquid splatters from the gutter, rumbling in the background. The orange streelights blur into shimmering splotches of light, the sheen from the computer monitor casting a ghostly reflection back at me. 

The storm finally hit tonight, and my heart sinks at the thought of the competition the next day. The mud, the cold, the wind, the reeking uniforms, the soaked instruments, the warm food, the bands, the carefree joy of being so wet it doesn't matter anymore... 

Maybe I'm masochistic, but the thought of tomorrow makes my heart a little lighter. 


End file.
